The Pretty Poison

PART 20 - Chapter 12

PART 20 – Chapter 12

“Get up!” The words are shouted at me as I spit out unwanted blood. I didn’t mean to mess up. I didn’t mean for the LED Poi to get caught on the zipper of my hoodie. It was so cold this morning, I had goosebumps all over my skin. I needed to wear it. But Westley still doesn’t get that. I cower on the ground a while before pushing myself up and getting to my unstable feet.

It’s been getting worse. I don’t know why he keeps doing this and I feel more alone than ever. Masque has been gone for two weeks now and with her death Westley has been steadily growing more violent. I wipe at my mouth and press tenderly on my cheek. With his swings, I can tell he is getting stronger too.

“The routine must be perfect or you’re not going to be able to perform it! And if you can’t perform, then you’re useless. So unless you want to be thrown back to the normal world and out of this company, I suggest you start acting like you want to be here!” His words feel like stabs to my heart. Doesn’t he realize how much I want this? The Circus is a fantasy come to life!

“I am trying.” Combing the hair out of my face with my fingers, I look into his disappointed expression. I am letting him down so much right now. I feel it in the way he stares at me. In hopes of calming him I try to rub his arms.  He pushes me away making me stumble again. “Baby, I’m—”

“Don’t ‘Baby’ me. Baby is a word used for a lover which you haven’t earned.” He picks up the towel and the stereo as he storms out of the tent. “I keep with the women who strive for perfection and right now you aren’t even close to being perfect or acting womanly.”

I’m choking on my words. It’s not like there is anything to say that would change his ways but I always keep hoping there will be. Tears and mascara stain my face as Westley leaves the practice. I feel my face grow hotter until it stops being red and starts turning blue. A cough helps me breathe but the thought is gone.

I deserve as much. I can’t tell Westley what’s really on my mind. My thoughts aren’t his or anyone’s to hear. If they did listen, they’d label me insane and I’d be kicked out of the best thing that has ever happened to me. I’d be dragged away from Westley and I know he’d find someone else before the week’s end. He’s not unfaithful though, he’s just flirtatious.

Rachael… It’s not your fault…

Shut up, I think to myself. I want this voice gone. It makes things worse than it is for me and I already have everything else to deal with.

Please listen, Rachael…

“Damn it,” I shout into the air. “I’m not fucking Rachael!”

Silence.

I contemplate whether to even leave the tent now. Maybe I should just sit here until someone takes me away. In a sense, it’d be better. That way I wouldn’t have to pretend to be sane anymore. I could just blame the strange happenings on Masque’s death, label me as schizophrenic and call it a book.

I slap myself. No mental slap, I literally take my palm and smack it across my face where Westley did moments ago. I have to stop this. This voice isn’t going away and Westley isn’t going to love me. There is just no love in his heart to reciprocate with. He doesn’t love.

The words drift around in my thoughts for a while. It’s true. He just wants someone there. I’m nothing more than an object that he manipulates and abuses for his enjoyment. So why can’t I let him go?

I ponder the question for ten minutes while sitting in absolute quiet. When I’m finally able to pick up my feet, my body feels heavier than gold. And I’ve heard if you drop a gold brick on your foot, it’ll shatter your bones. Well, that’s exactly how I feel.